Walking on the edge: a three-day hike along Cumbria’s rugged, overlooked coast

This inherent struggle is perhaps best exemplified by the relentless challenge of coastal erosion. As sea levels rise and storm intensities increase due to climate change, the very ground beneath the communities and infrastructure of this littoral zone is in constant flux. The dedicated planners and builders of the England Coast Path (ECP), akin to the pioneering railway navvies of old, have undertaken a monumental task: charting and fortifying a viable public footpath around the entire English coastline. This ambitious national trail, once fully open, will be the longest continuous coastal path in the world, a testament to public access and coastal appreciation. However, its very nature means it must adapt to a dynamic environment. There are, and always will be, sections of the Cumbrian ECP that are compromised, requiring detours, or even temporarily impassable, a stark reminder of the power of the sea. My own three-day journey southwards along this coast path, culminating in a necessary diversion to reach St Bees, underscored this reality. Yet, far from being a hindrance, these adaptations are integral to the adventure, highlighting the ECP’s responsiveness and its commitment to addressing obstacles promptly, ensuring the long-term viability and safety of this extraordinary national asset.

My exploration commenced in Maryport, a natural starting point where the Cumbrian Coast Line, snaking south from Carlisle, meets the sea. Rather than immediately setting off on foot, I yielded to the town’s quiet allure, taking time to absorb its rich, if somewhat ramshackle, character. It proved a rewarding decision. Maryport, originally known as Alauna by the Romans, was a crucial fort on the western flank of Hadrian’s Wall, guarding the Solway Firth. Its strategic importance is vividly brought to life at the Senhouse Roman Museum, which proudly houses Britain’s largest collection of Roman altars and inscriptions unearthed from a single site. These artefacts offer a unique window into the lives of Roman soldiers and local Britons on the empire’s frontier, revealing insights into their beliefs, military structures, and daily existence.

Beyond its Roman roots, Maryport boasts a fascinating industrial and artistic heritage. A dedicated LS Lowry trail guides visitors through the very streets and scenes that inspired the renowned industrial landscape painter. Lowry, known for his distinctive matchstick figures and depictions of northern industrial life, captured the grit and character of towns like Maryport, reflecting a powerful, if sometimes bleak, beauty. Information panels along the trail also pay homage to other gifted local artists whose works, though perhaps less globally celebrated, profoundly reflect the Cumbrian spirit. Sheila Fell, hailing from nearby Aspatria, was celebrated for her stark, powerful landscapes, often depicting the Cumbrian fells and their enduring human presence. Percy Kelly, born in Workington, was a master of thick lines and dark, brooding landscapes, deeply influenced by the industrial scenery and his personal struggles. His later life, when he embraced the identity of Roberta Penelope, adds another layer to his compelling story, exploring themes of identity and artistic expression against the backdrop of this unique region.

Venturing onto the coast path, the sense of being at the margins truly began to crystallise. The empty strand stretched before me, offering vast views across the Solway Firth to the undulating hills of Dumfriesshire in Scotland. Walkers were few, replaced by the natural tapestry of the shoreline. At Flimby, the "path" dissolved into a line of kelp on a pebble beach, bordered by vibrant flowering sea kale. As I walked, clouds of cabbage white and the delicate small blue butterflies rose around me. West Cumbria is a crucial stronghold for the small blue, the only area where this beautiful species thrives in northern England, highlighting the ecological significance of these coastal habitats. An unfamiliar call and a flash of white wings drew me to my birder app, identifying a pair of sandwich terns – an "amber" status bird on the RSPB website, indicating their conservation vulnerability and the importance of protecting their breeding grounds.

The landscape continued to evolve, a mosaic of heather and rosehip, occasional dunes, and a vibrant avian population. Swallows darted, hawking flies with acrobatic grace. Herring gulls cried their raucous calls, while black-headed gulls planed effortlessly on the sea breeze. Carrot-beaked oystercatchers fluted their distinctive alarm calls, a sound synonymous with British coastlines. Yet, to my left, above the marram grass, the industrial past asserted itself – the hulking forms of industrial plants and the neat, grey rows of old workers’ terraces. This contrast, as the original article evocatively put it, renders the Cumbria coast "more Morrissey lyric than Countryfile fantasy," a landscape imbued with a melancholic beauty born of industry and resilience, rather than pristine, manicured pastoralism. Boulders, grimly functional, were arrayed along the shore, a testament to ongoing efforts to protect against the relentless power of storms. In a moment of stark, modern contrast, two teenage girls reclined on the rocks, bronzing (or perhaps pinking) themselves under the midday sun, oblivious to the deeper histories and struggles etched into the landscape around them.

After seven miles, Workington welcomed me. I had visited before for a travel feature titled "Where tourists seldom tread," but arriving on foot from the shore offered a fresh perspective. Workington, true to its name, is a town forged by industry – coal, iron, and steel – whose legacy has shaped its people, making them "steely and friendly," a community with a strong sense of identity and mutual support. I spent the night at the Hunday Manor Hotel, perched above the town, offering superb panoramic views of the coast stretching back to the fells, a perfect vantage point to appreciate the region’s dramatic topography.

The following day’s walk to Whitehaven, approximately 12 miles, was the longest leg. The initial stretch, descending back into Workington, was a pleasant surprise. From my hotel, I had noted the fuel silos, warehouses, and industrial estates, but around the harbour, the landscape transformed into gentle, grassy knolls. The vista was breathtaking: Scafell Pike, England’s highest mountain, rose majestically to the south-east, while Scotland shimmered tantalisingly to the north. In the distance, the cliffs and wide inlet of Whitehaven beckoned.

This journey coincided with the UK’s fifth heatwave, one of the driest and warmest periods in living memory for this typically temperate region. As the mercury climbed, I ascended onto the clifftops, seeking the cooler sea breezes. I paused at the Howe, a hill uniquely formed from industrial slag, now reclaimed by nature, to gulp down water and reflect. Here, a poignant 3-metre steel and wood crucifix, erected by a local man in memory of his wife, stood as a silent sentinel, blending personal grief with the industrial landscape. The path then became a little challenging, with scant waymarking, a reminder of the ECP’s ongoing development. Eventually, I arrived in Harrington, a charming suburban village with kite flyers enjoying the blustery bluff and smart little terraces marching up its side streets. Lunch was a welcome respite, watching trains come and go – the Cumbrian Coast Line offers a convenient escape, making it easy to shorten a walk if needed.

Back on the cliffs, I passed a large windfarm, its turbines gracefully slicing the air, a symbol of Cumbria’s embrace of renewable energy. The path continued as a bridleway, cutting through sheep fields towards Parton. The air was thick with the hairy seeds of thorns, bursting in the intense heat, a sensory detail that spoke of the dry, hot conditions.

A path beneath dramatic sandstone cliffs, sculpted by millennia of erosion, guided me into Whitehaven. Widely regarded as one of northern England’s most beautiful towns, Whitehaven offered all the amenities a tired walker could desire. Crucially, while it caters to visitors, it has retained its authentic soul, avoiding the over-commercialisation that has affected some Lakeland towns. This balance allows its rich history and vibrant community to shine through.

Whitehaven was once an industrial powerhouse, a major port during the 17th and 18th centuries, built on a unique grid plan that rivalled Christopher Wren’s vision for London. Its prosperity was tied to shipping a diverse array of goods: tobacco from the Americas, coal from local mines (some extending far out under the sea), ceramics, iron ore, limestone, and textiles. However, its history also carries a darker stain: Whitehaven was the fifth most active British port involved in the transatlantic slave trade, a period of immense wealth generation built on human suffering. The older streets still feature crumbling Georgian mansions, remnants of this opulent, complex past. Unmissable landmarks include its Victorian-era lighthouses and the distinctive chimney known as the Candlestick. Between these enduring structures, ghostly traces of former tenements, coastal batteries, and long-silenced engine houses speak of a bygone industrial era. The town’s eventual decline was multifaceted, attributed to silting of the harbour and the inability to accommodate larger, modern ships, leading to its eclipse by deeper water ports like Liverpool and Glasgow. Shipbuilding, once a key industry, relocated to Belfast. Today, a powerful mix of nostalgia, grit, grandeur, and decay permeates Whitehaven’s collective maritime memory, offering a profound sense of place and history.

To delve deeper into Whitehaven’s layered past, I visited The Beacon Museum, one of the UK’s finest regional museums. Its engaging exhibits bring the town’s history to life, from its Roman origins to its maritime prowess and industrial decline, offering a truly rejuvenating experience. Beneath the museum, the Howling Wolf Bakery and Cafe provides delicious cakes, toasties, and coffee, a perfect refuel stop. Whitehaven also boasts an array of excellent restaurants; I highly recommend The Peddler, housed in the former bus station, and Zest, situated on the picturesque waterside. Every kind of pub, chippy, and cafe is also available, catering to all tastes and budgets.

Adding to Whitehaven’s burgeoning appeal is The Edge hotel, which opened in October of the previous year. This striking new establishment is designed to bolster Whitehaven’s ambitions to compete with the more established Lake District tourism hubs. Owned by the Whitehaven Harbour Commission, the hotel is committed to supporting walkers, cyclists, musicians, and community groups, fostering a sustainable tourism model. Its 16 ensuite rooms offer attractive views over the marina, a blend of historic quays and jetties (known locally as ‘tongues’) and modern additions. The Edge’s irregular, polyhedral shape is architecturally striking, simultaneously evoking a contemporary design and a sturdy storm barrier. Its air-source underfloor heating and solar panels exemplify a commitment to sustainability, aligning with Cumbria’s growing reputation as a hub for renewable energy initiatives.

For the final leg of my journey, an alternative route was necessary, with coastal erosion once again forcing a diversion inland. However, the prospect of reaching my destination, coupled with the unique experiences of the preceding days, meant this minor detour was barely a blip on my elated radar. My total coast walk, approximately 23 miles directly (but considerably more with explorations around towns and hikes to/from accommodation), culminated at St Bees Head. This dramatic headland, a designated Heritage Coast and RSPB reserve, offered spectacular views of secluded coves, secret beaches, and sheer red sandstone cliffs that plunged into the Irish Sea.

Here, the England Coast Path intersected with the recently inaugurated Coast to Coast National Trail, an iconic route devised by Alfred Wainwright. It was at this juncture that I encountered other walkers, predominantly Australians rather than Brits, all heading inland towards the popular peaks of Ennerdale and Helvellyn, destined to join the crowds and queues of the central Lakes. My own company, however, remained the wild residents of the coast: fulmars gliding on stiff wings, cormorants drying their outstretched wings, herring gulls circling overhead, ravens croaking from the cliffs, and kestrels hovering with keen eyes. Discovering a small colony of kittiwakes nesting precariously on tiny cliff ledges, I decided it was time to rest. Sitting there, I soaked up the gentle sea breezes and the wide, all-encompassing silence, a profound sense of peace settling over me. It was a fitting end to a journey through a region that truly embodies the spirit of the UK’s "edgiest" landscapes, a place of stark beauty, resilient communities, and enduring natural power.

The trip was supported by Cumbria Tourism, Avanti, Northern, and Stagecoach buses. Stagecoach offers convenient DayRider and 3-day Explorer passes. Doubles at The Edge hotel start from £117 B&B, and at Hunday Manor Country House hotel from £125 B&B.